


Dear Diary

by SourCherryBlossom



Category: Homeland
Genre: Diary/Journal, F/M, Family
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-01-06
Updated: 2017-02-22
Packaged: 2018-03-06 09:22:22
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,509
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3129365
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SourCherryBlossom/pseuds/SourCherryBlossom
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>AU. Developing multi-chapter fic, based on 12-year old Franny Mathison's diary entries.  Because, who doesn't want more Quinn and Franny?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Dear Diary,

My name is Frances Anne Mathison, and I'm twelve years old. I am a seventh grader at Thoreau Middle school in Vienna, Virginia. I'm in the advanced reading group for Mr. Rodriguez' classroom and he said that anyone who kept a diary this semester would get extra credit. I really want an "A", and since I didn't do very well on that last book report, (Ha Ha Mr. R. I didn't like "Great Expectations", sorry, no matter what my Dad said,) then I will give this a try. This is my first diary, so hello, dear diary and I hope you will keep all my secrets. Mr. R promised to check that we wrote, but not to read it. I trust him, it's funny to trust a teacher. But he's cool, and smart, and everybody likes him.

Today is January 12, 2025. I live in Vienna, Virginia, with my Mom, Carrie Mathison, and my Dad, Peter Quinn, and our dog Morrigan. Plus I have a beta fish, Cartman. But he doesn't do much since he's the only beta fish in the house, lol.

Morrigan is a German Shepherd, and she's supposed to be a really good guard dog. I guess she is, because Dad bought her from someplace that all they do is raise guard dogs. Dad said, "Virgil's brother is a special breeder," whatever that meant, and I guess Dad paid beaucoup bucks for Morrigan. She was half grown when we got her, already trained and stuff. I didn't go, that day, to the farm that they picked her up from. But I loved Morry from the start, and she loved me. She thinks I'm one of her puppies, lol, except she's never had any. Except for my friend Grace, and my love bunny, (hee hee diary don't tell anyone that I still have him) Morry is my best friend. It's funny, Dad and Mom said they would always be around to protect me. Like something might be coming. Who knows, they act totally paranoid sometimes. Parents are so weird. But Morrigan is really smart, though, the best dog in the world, and I love her.

Like this one day. I was home alone. I was about 10 years old. Dad was at the shop, closing up, and Mom wasn't home from work yet. A guy came to the door, like, just delivering a package. I had to open the door and sign, so I did. Morry came and crouched down on the floor by my feet. I had to sign the sheet while she growled at the man. I think the guy almost peed his pants (lol diary!) because Morrigan made such a horrible noise. It was our new Playstation 6 for my birthday (WOOT) but I think the FedEx dude was about ready for a new set of underwear lololol. When Dad got home, I told him what happened, and he gave Morry a treat and said, "Morry is a good girl." When Dad gave her the treat, Morry rolled on her back and let us rub her tummy. I said, Dad, why is she so fired up about strangers, but to me, she is just like a big furry blanket, lol. And Dad said, "She knows what her job is," which I thought was pretty cool. She doesn't freak out about Grace, either, just slobbers on her hand. And Grace likes dogs, so it's cool.

My Mom is an analyst for the C.I.A., but what she analyzes, I have no idea. It sounds completely fudging boring. I know that she's supposed to be looking for the things terrorists talk about, so she can keep our country safe. But I have no idea how or what. I guess I'm not supposed to know. All I know is, that on "take your daughter to work day," Mom could only bring me to the cafeteria for lunch. She introduced me to some of her work friends, whatever. Adults, nice people, I guess, but all they could talk about is my hair. I have really bright red hair, diary, and it's so embarrassing. I asked Mom if I could dye it black this year, but she said no. I asked her why and she got that funny look she gets when she needs to go hide in the bathroom with the door shut. So I said, whatever, it's just hair. Dad patted me on the head, said I did a good job at being mature. So I got my iPad4 and went to play Temple Run 5. Whatever, I don't know why she gets so upset. At least she let me pierce my ears this year.

Now, diary, Dad's work is TOTALLY different. It's not like Mom's. I can come and go, in fact, a lot of afternoons, after school, I ride the bus home, feed Morry, and grab a PB&J, and then Morry and I walk to Dad's shop. He is the sole owner and proprietor of "PQ Firearms" and you should see the cool new sign he's had hung since last fall, when the shop started to do really good, much bigger than the old sign. Dad and Mom don't talk about money, but I know Dad's business is doing well, because he bought the other half of the building he started the shop in, and turned it from a sewing type shop thingie into a shooting range. And diary THAT's what is so cool, I can't wait to tell you.

After school on regular days, now that I'm big enough to ride the bus, then walk, Morry and I can go to Dad's shop after work. I come right in and give Dad a big hug, he pats Morry, and then I sit on the stool next to the cash register. I love Dad's shop. It's clean and smells good, like fresh wood and gun oil. I know all the regular customers now, people who come in for a sight to be calibrated, ladies who come in for a lesson and to flirt with Dad (Ha, if they only know how hopeless that was, lolol), and little old men who want to chitchat about the Vietnam war. Lol. Dad is nice to them all, and he has taught me to run the old-school cash register. You should see this thing. It has buttons, a bell that rings, tabs that pop up and I have to calculate change myself lol. But Dad has me do it, and then checks me. The old men call me "Franny-bananny" and they love it when I ring them up, while Morry sits by my feet with her tongue hanging. One day a week, Dad teaches me gun safety and takes me to the range in back, now, the expanded range in the new building, and it's soooo cool. He's showing me how to shoot a 22 semi. It's a small gun, and I like it, though it freaked me out at first. It's cool though. I never liked dolls, or dresses, or really anything girly. Dad says, "You're your mother's daughter." That made me happy, though, diary. I can't tell you how much. Sometimes Mom goes to the range and shoots with us, but not too often. Still, I know he's right.

Dad started this business when I was just a baby. I don't know what he used to do, before the shop, but I guess, who cares. Dad is my hero. I know most kids feel this way about their Dad, but for my Dad it is totally true, even now I'm almost a teenager (Haha!). Dad is amazing. He knows how to shoot, sight in weapons, fight, load, clean, and field strip almost any gun known to man; automatic weapons, even. He has them in the shop, but he doesn't let me touch those. He's good at this stuff. I guess that's why when he quit his old job, whatever that was, he decided to open a gun shop.

I can almost remember the day the shop opened. I was so little that we didn't have Morry yet, and I had to hold Mom's hand. But I saw the man standing on a ladder, holding the new sign, hanging it up, and the gold and black lettering, like from an Old West movie from Turner Classic Movies, lol, in the glass windows:

PQ Firearms

Pistols – Rifles – Ammo – Accessories

Shooting range – Lessons by appointment only

Mom was really happy, and I remember her hair was so golden in the sun. Dad used the big scissors the chamber of commerce guy brought to cut the store ribbon. Then, Dad kissed Mom. Thinking back, I'm surprised I don't have a baby sister or brother, the same age as the store, because they were so happy. I guess that's gross, though, diary. But I think it's nice when parents are happy, even though they get up to, ewwww, let's not talk about it, lol. Most of my friends' parents are divorced, and my family's not. I'm so glad that has never happened to us.

I don't worry about that with my Mom and Dad, really. Honestly, Diary (and Mr. R, if you're still reading this far, you big sneak) I've never seen two people happier to be together than my Mom and Dad. I am not really Dad's biological child, which I guess everybody knows. I mean, if you look at us, it's like, duh. Dad has brown hair and Mom is blonde. My hair is bright red, and one time when one of the neighbors gave my Dad crap about me being a literal "red-headed stepchild", Dad looked like he wanted to punch him in the throat. Mom was there, which I think was lucky for the guy, because she grabbed his wrist. She reminded Dad that the guy had a few beers, and it was our Redskins tailgate party, after all. So, Dad cooled it. He didn't like talking to that neighbor dude after that, though.

The reason is, I guess, that I'm not his bio-kid. I know that, and he knows that, but I don't care. I suppose Dad and Mom had a hard time before me, but I don't know how or what. I guess it doesn't matter. The only thing I know for sure is that when I was 4, Dad and Mom got married. And then when I was six, Dad adopted me. Dad and Mom decided that my name would stay the same, I guess, since I was 6 and had already learned how to write it. But I don't think anyone has any doubt, in any important way, that I'm anything but I'm Mom and Dad's kid. The way things look, I'll be the only child. That's ok, though, because nobody steals my stuff, lololol, diary.

Tonight is taco night. I'm big enough to help. Instead of going to the store, I'll help Dad and Mom by opening the refried beans and microwaving them, getting out the shredded cheese, and sautéing the ground turkey. I'm lucky to have a nice family. Morry keeps me company. But honestly, diary, life is pretty boring. I wish my Mom and Dad would take more vacations and take me more places, like Florida or California. I can't WAIT to get old enough to go to college. But Dad and Mom both say they want my red hair where they can see it.

They sit on the couch at night, watching me work on my advanced algebra homework, Dad's arm around her shoulder. I got accelerated in math, in 3rd grade, and my teachers say I'm going far, whatever that means, lol. Sometimes I get nervous about that, but when I look back at Dad and Mom on the couch, she with her laptop open to some weird problem, and Dad with his copy of Guns & Ammo, I know that no matter how nervous I get, they're going to help me. So, it will be ok.

I'll write more tomorrow, diary. I hope this is the beginning of a long relationship. But if not, I hope it's enough to get extra credit! Lolol

Love,

Franny M.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> “Nothing in this world can take the place of persistence. Talent will not; nothing is more common than unsuccessful men with talent. Genius will not; unrewarded genius is almost a proverb. Education will not; the world is full of educated derelicts. Persistence and determination alone are omnipotent. The slogan Press On! has solved and always will solve the problems of the human race.” 
> 
> ― Calvin Coolidge

Dear Diary,

  
It has been one whole month since I wrote in you. Yikes! Mom said, "Just sit down, and do it!" a half a dozen times, as Mr. R. said we wouldn’t get credit if we didn’t ‘stay dedicated’ for at least the rest of the semester. But I don’t have to worry about my language arts grade, right, Diary? I got an A the first half of the year and I’m getting an A- now. So, whatever.

  
Still, as Dad says, “Dedication is half of success,” and he made some quote about persistence, by some old President. WhatEVER, Diary, I get so tired of their nagging. But most of the time life is pretty alright. It is February now and I got so very cold walking home. Morry is sitting on my feet, warming me up, like she does all the rest of the time, lol. But I know it’s my own fault, because I didn’t want to wear my jacket, at least not where the other kids on the bus can see me. I don’t know when it became uncool to wear a coat and a hat, like maybe when I turned 12, but if it gets any colder I will just have to be uncool anyway, lol, so there.

  
I can hear Mom out in the kitchen. She is on the phone to Aunt Maggie again. If I sit still and listen and if Morry doesn’t whine (or toot, lol) I will be able to hear what she says.  I told Dad that I do this sometimes, and he just ruffled my hair and laughed. "You're a natural spy," he said.  Whatever THAT means, lol.  

I hear Mom saying, “Ruby and Josie,” and that’s good. My cousins are older, but I like them. They don’t treat me like a baby, they never did. We don’t look like we’re related at all.  My hair is curly and red, and they are blonde with brown underneath, kind of like Mom. I like to hang out with them. Ruby is a senior in high school and sometimes she ignores us.  But sometimes she reads aloud from “Tales of a Fourth Grade Nothing,” and plays NyanCat on her tablet and lets us watch, and usually Josie fools with _my_ iPad, and we take silly selfies, and she lets me see the skins she puts up on Skinseed. Aunt Maggie and Uncle Bill let her do all kinds of things on social media that I’m not allowed to do – I have no idea why.  Sometimes, I swear to God, it’s like Mom wants me to not exist.  I have no social media profile at all.  She has killed my social life before it even started, lol.  But Dad said it’s “not negotiable.” SIGH.  So much for Snapchat, right, Diary?

Anyway. Josie is a Freshman, and I know she likes me. Because she hangs around and I know she likes to do girl stuff together. Sometimes she uses my American Kid Magazine guides and tries all kinds of new braids, but they don’t usually work, lol. I’m just too curly, she says. Last year I wanted to dye my hair, a big blue streak down the side. It was different than darkening my hair all over, I tried to explain to Mom. But no way, “I’m not having it, Franny,” she said, and then, “I’m not even discussing this.” Then she went into the bathroom and shut the door.

  
Well, there’s one place you can go and shut the door in someone’s face. And that’s the bathroom. But funny, I felt worse for asking, than I did for having the door slammed on me. It’s my hair, but she made me feel like I’d asked for something horrible, like a cigarette or a face tattoo. Everyone, I mean everyone in my class has a piercing or two, and the hair stuff, well that’s just temporary. But she said no, and locked herself in the can.

  
Fine with me. Really, I like myself just the way I am. The hair thing is sort of like makeup. And Dad said he wouldn’t mind a blue streak, “Because you’re always talking one, sunshine,” and then he did a raspberry in my ear and hair and then we got in a tickle war. It was Mom who says, no. Josie and Ruby, they made me feel better about it though. At our last sleepover, Josie said, “We like your hair the way it is,” and I could tell she really meant it. And Ruby stopped gaming long enough to say, “Yeah, if I could, I’d dye my hair YOUR color,” and she really meant it, too. So, whatever. Like I said, last time, Diary, it’s just hair.

  
Now I hear Mom talking about Uncle Virgil and Uncle Max. Uncle Max got a super cool girlfriend, did I tell you, Diary? Of course I didn’t, lol. Max got out of his old job and started raising dogs, like I said, he’s Morry’s, well, I don’t know. Breeder sounds weird, somehow, and kind of gross. Grandfather, maybe?  LOL!  Anyway, Max convinced a lady he worked with to leave that job too, and come work with him. That lady was Aunt Fara, and I guess Uncle Max got over being so super-shy, and now they are together. It’s really weird, though.  They were talking about why Fara left her old work, and I overheard Dad say it "didn't take much convincing," like he says when he's trying to be funny, but he knows it isn't. I guess that's because Aunt Fara got hurt really bad on the job, right before she quit. It still looks like it hurts sometimes, when she's walking, and she leans on Uncle Max's arm.  I am sure she's much happier with the puppies, though, Diary. I know I would be!

  
Now we heard they are going to get married, and they say I can even be in the wedding! That news really made Mom and Dad smile. They aren’t living together like most normal adults, though, Diary, because Aunt Fara’s Dad won’t let her. It sounds weird for an adult to “not let” another adult do anything, lol, but that’s Aunt Fara’s religion. That’s why her Dad doesn’t like Uncle Max, either. But we LOVE Aunt Fara. She is beautiful and has skin like the color of Dad’s coffee when he puts cream in it. She is an amazing cook, and she does all the math for Uncle Max’s business. When she visits, Mom speaks another language with her! But I don’t know what it is, Diary. It’s a long way from the Spanish I’ve been learning in Middle school. I think it sounds like something out of a movie. Even though Mom says it’s not important, I’m getting curious about that stuff.

  
Now I hear Mom talking about something else, but I can’t make out what it is. She and I had quite a crazy time last month at the airport, let me tell you. Aunt Maggie picked me up and Mom too, and I had to go because Dad was receiving a load at the store and couldn’t be away from work yet.  And I couldn’t be home alone for that long.  So off we went, to the airport to pick someone up, and guess who it was? My Grandma!

  
A grandma I didn’t even know I had. I had thought she was dead, tbh. Dad said “She’s dead to us,” but I didn’t know why that was, or what he meant by that.  It sounded kind of mean.  So I didn't know what to expect.  

When she got off the plane, I can't explain it but, she didn’t look or seem like a normal grandma. She had a guy with her, who looked maybe old enough to go to college or something. “This is Tim,” she said, and tried to give me a hug. Mom barely opened her mouth enough to say, “He’s your _half_ -uncle,” and she sort of leaned on the word “half,” but when I looked, she wasn’t smiling.  Grandma smelled like the Vaporub stuff Mom puts in the humidifier when I have a cold.  Aunt Maggie looked happy, and hugged her, and I gave her like the quickest hug you could possibly give another human, even though she tried to hold on longer, because old people do that. But Mom stayed back. 

  
I didn’t know why. The guy she called Tim took me over to the big row of vending machines, and asked if I wanted to play the claw.

I said, no way, my Dad says these are terrible games and they are all rigged, nobody who plays can win anything worth the money. Tim shrugged, a big “whatever shrug,” and pulled out some quarters. In the background, I could hear Mom’s voice getting louder. I pretended to watch Tim try to win a Minion toy for me – who even still watches that old movie? – and in the mirror behind the claw, I saw Aunt Maggie getting upset, Mom nodding like she does when she’s getting really angry, and the lady I knew was my Grandma waving her hands in the air. She dropped both her hands to her sides, and I looked down at the claw, really quick, like I was interested. They didn't want me watching them. But the next thing I knew, Mom’s hand was on my shoulder.

  
“Come on, Fran, we’ve got to go,” she said, and as I walked away, Mom pulling at my arm, Tim tossed me the toy he had just won. It was a tiny kaleidoscope. “Thanks,” I got to yell, and “Bye!” before I got pulled through the doors and back out onto the sidewalk. Mom stood there with a grip on the bottom of my turquoise winter coat, like I was just a little kid who might run into traffic. I shook loose, and told her she was wrinkling me up. The she looked down and sort of noticed me all at once, if that makes any sense. She ordered a Lyft and soon we were back in a car, going home from the airport, before I really figured out what was happening. Why had we even gone in the first place? Let me tell you, I knew better than to ask "what about Aunt Maggie," because Mom just gets this way sometimes.

  
Mom was looking out the window, not really sniffling, and I didn’t even know how to ask a question. I used the kaleidoscope to look at the streetlights, and then back at the road signs, back out the rear window. “Dulles,” one said, with a picture of a plane. That’s my life, Diary: dull, dull, dull. I almost got to meet an uncle, _half-_ uncle, I guess he was. But Mom got pissed, and then it was all over. Who even knows why.

  
I asked her if everything was alright, and Mom reached out and pulled me hard, trying to hug me. I told her to cut it out, the seat belt was pulling on me, and she let go. But then she said, “They don’t deserve you.” And pulled out her iPhone to text Dad. Aunt Maggie didn’t call us for a whole month, I know that because all I could do was ask Dad to text Josie for me. He did, because he knows that I miss her, and not having my own phone TOTALLY sucks.

  
What in the H-E-double-hockey-sticks was that all about, anyway? I have no idea. Mom is weird and so is Dad, but overall, I can’t complain, Diary.  The main thing is, they love each other, and I know they love me (Mom is _really_ weird sometimes though). What else could a kid want? 

  
Well, lol, since you asked, Diary, I’ll tell you. A kid could want more video game time! Sometimes when Mom works, like really late, I mean; Dad and I will make dinner together and clean up. Then I have a bath and we call Mom, and say goodnight. Dad says he’s putting me to bed, which is sort of true, and I say I’m in bed with a book. Which is _really_ true, Diary! I read every day, I read a ton of books. I wouldn’t lie about that.

  
But then when we hang up with Mom, Dad waits a little. I hear him feed Morry, and check all the locks and turn on the house alarm. Then he sticks his head around the corner of my bedroom door, to see if I’m awake. Of course, I always am, lol.

  
“Ready?” is all he says. And I pop up out of bed, and we go login to Call of Duty: Ultimate Warfare on the PS6. Dad sometimes gets me ice cream too, he calls it “Frozen peas,” like vegetables are some kind of a joke, and then we play video games for a while. Dad is a cool geek, lol, Diary. I’m so glad he’s around and takes care of both of us. I swear sometimes, Mom needs a babysitter more than me! Lolol!!

I better password protect this, Diary!  If Mom got into this file, she would kill me, lol.  Talk to ya soon!

  
-Franny

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another little glimpse into this AU- dedicated to those kind readers who bothered to leave a comment, and tell me that they liked it. I'm looking at you, AstronautMikeDexter, bwg71, cris86, mamu, and Connie 
> 
> Given that S6 is feeling pretty painful, let's go journeying into the realm of "What could have been..." shall we?


	3. Chapter 3

Dear Diary,

Wow!  It has only been two weeks.  I should pat myself on the back, because you are hearing from me again so soon.  But I guess I better figure out what to write about? Instead of just typing away. It gets hard, because really Diary, there is nothing going on around here. 

                My life is sooooo incredibly boring sometimes.  Well, the cousins had a big sleepover here last weekend.  Two whole nights!  That was fun.  Aunt Maggie and Uncle Bill had a weekend away, and so I got the good end of that. While they were here, though, Ruby just hung around the house… if she wasn’t playing on her tablet, she was on the phone texting with her boyfriend. _Yuck_. I only have one “boy friend,” not “Boyfriend”, Diary, YKWIM?  Most boys are gross. But my boy, or “male friend” I should say, Dylan, just wants to draw cartoons with me to make me laugh. His “Bob the Noob” series is going to run in the school paper.  I think someday he’s going to be as famous as the guy who wrote “Diary of a Wimpy Kid,” cause, boy, can he identify with _that_ one.  He has two brothers and his mom is pregnant _again_.  ( _Yuck_ again).  Even kissing is gross, if you ask me. And babies are cute, but they smell bad lol.

 _An_ yway. Josie and I took Morrigan to the dog park and let her run around. That was fun. Dad usually drives us everywhere, but the dog park is close. I am getting older, and he is starting to trust me more, I think. He said, “Stick to the path.  Don’t talk to strangers,” like he always does. But nothing ever happens, not in my boring town in my boring life. I guess it was nice to go out once, when J and R were here. Mom took all three of us to Social Burger, an actual omg, real-life _restaurant_ , which we hardly ever get to do.

I'm being a smart-alex, Diary, which I bet you know. Of course we could afford to eat out. But, Mom works a lot. Like, a _lot_. And she doesn’t like to cook, she only does it when she has to. It actually is me and Dad most of the time, who do the cooking, which I guess wouldn't surprise anyone who knows us. Mom is always there for me, as much as she can be anyway. But really it’s Dad so much of the time, when I need basic stuff, like a graph paper tablet, a new swimsuit, or even cupcakes. Dad actually put an apron on once to make pizza, but Josie and I laughed at him so hard that he took it back off. Now I wish we hadn’t done that. He was trying to be nice and do it right. 

While Josie and Ruby were here, I couldn’t listen in the way I usually do, lol. Too much talking in my room. But I did overhear something, going on, Dad was mumbling something to Mom in the kitchen. Then she yelled something and then he stomped off. Whatever, that’s not a big deal, Mom yells all the time. But then Dad went out and didn’t come back until real late. And that _was_ weird. So that one night, when Dad was gone, she took us to the hamburger place. I wanted to ask Mom, “What was that about?” but I knew that she wouldn’t tell me with R and J around, and anyway, she probably wouldn’t tell me anyway even if we were alone.  She just sat there on her phone, texting away like we weren’t there. Who knows to who. It is a good thing I had the cousins to talk to, because, like, she wasn’t even there mentally. 

“Grown-up stuff, baby,” is what she’d say.  _Please_. As if I haven’t seen, heard or understood anything in twelve and a half years. Like for example, I know that my Mom is sick. 

I have known for a long time, like at least 2 years. I was ten, and I was home alone. I know I am not supposed to go in the big medicine cabinet by myself – I can go in the little one, that stuff is no big deal. That has ointment, band aids, and shower gel, that kind of stuff. I got a paper cut on “Upside down Magic,” I can’t tell you how many times I’ve read that series, Diary. Anyway, I wanted a band-aid for the paper cut, but the little medicine cabinet didn’t have any.

I climbed up on the counter, and knelt in front of the big medicine cabinet.  When I opened it, I saw up close all the things I knew Mom and Dad wanted to keep me safe from.  Dad’s very small section only had 4 leftover pills from a prescription he got, like back when I was born. Yes, that old. I was going to tell him to flush them, but then I thought, he’d know I was snooping and he wouldn’t like it. The rest of the entire cabinet was Mom stuff.

Most of it was just random stuff. Hair pins, medicine she uses for me, the children’s Tylenol, like… I weigh enough to take the tablets, but I suck at swallowing them, besides the berry liquid stuff tastes better, lol. I found Mom’s pills that she takes, some were normal looking things, one was in a big wheel thing – still haven’t looked that one up, and I was afraid to peek again, after I saw the ones on the top shelf. One said, “Lithium,” which I thought was weird. There’s a station on XM called Lithium, so it has to mean something, right?

So, Diary, I googled it, and it’s used for only one thing. “Bipolar disorder,” it’s called. I don’t think I have it. I don’t think Mom seems like she has anything wrong with her, but maybe that’s because she takes the medicine. I really don’t know. But I wish she’d just tell me, because after I read about it, sometimes I worry. Do I get too upset? Do I feel too happy or sad? How do I know if I’m sick? It’s probably something I’ll ask Dad about – I just haven’t been, well, brave enough yet, because I’m not sure I want to know the answer.

Dad is gone tonight again, but I know he’s at the shop. He said he was going to count the drawer, and I said, I wanted to come too, because it’s boring around here. (No TV on a school night… did I mention the words, “Boring?!!”) But he said, no, just stay here with your mother and do your reading. _Please_. Doesn’t he know, I read, like, all the time? So here I am doing a little writing instead.

One thing is sure, Diary, I don’t feel like I’ve got to do this, but I’m starting to like it. It’s like I have a friend who is listening, someone I trust even more than Dylan or Josie. Well, I can tell Morry anything, and sometimes I do… she’ll keep my secrets forever, lol!

Mom is calling. She sounds awful tired, and I bet she wants help taking out the trash. I don’t have my jammies on yet, so it’s cool. And, Dad isn’t home yet – I wonder how many times he had to count the drawer. He should have taken me with him… I get As in Math!!! Lolol!

I’ll write to you soon, Diary.

Your friend,

Franny

 

                 


End file.
